


What 'I love you' means

by FilmEater



Series: Chance Encounters [6]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:21:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FilmEater/pseuds/FilmEater





	What 'I love you' means

What on earth had she been thinking?

Ella looked herself over in the mirror, trying on the dress she bought for that evening. It seemed okay at the store, it really did. Mostly black but with a white part at the top that had black-and-blue prints across the shoulder and collarbones, it clung to her growing stomach, falling loose underneath. Now, however, now it was the stupidest idea she’d ever had. She looked hideous. Out of proportion. She tried holding her hair up, tried letting it down around her shoulders, imagined what it would look like with a proper necklace and earrings – none of that changed the fact she looked horrible. She blinked away the tears. This was all a terrible, terrible idea.

She flew in the previous day at Tom’s insistence that she come out to the premiere with him. He wanted to see her. He wanted to show her off. Or so he said. Why would he want to show off a thing like her was nothing short of a mystery. She flew in not for the premiere, but to spend a few days with him while she could still fly. In a few weeks she’d be in her third trimester and there would be no more flying then. That was an issue all on its own, of course. Tom wanted her to stay. Stay in England, have the baby there. It’ll solve the citizenship issue. They argued over and over, him pushing the citizenship point, Ella pushing back with medical insurance concerns. She had none there. Her check-ups would only be covered by her insurance back at home, same for her hospital bill when the time came. And she wanted her own goddamn doctor. He offered to pay for everything. Of course he had. But she won, eventually. She came over just for a few days, and then she’d be going back home to her life, to her work, to wait until the baby came. She sat on the edge of the bed, put her head in her hands, and tried to focus on breathing, not on how much she actually wanted to just stay there, with him. Except he wouldn’t be there, he’d be away filming again and she’d be all alone. Alone here, alone back home. Somehow, no matter what, she always ended up alone.

The door opened almost silently. Almost, but she’d heard it. Rubbing her eyes, Ella looked up and saw him close it behind him, then turn to her. He frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything!”

He chuckled, which was probably the worst thing he could have done at that moment, because it made the tears she’d been blinking away grow stronger, roll down her cheeks. There was nothing funny about this. She looked away from him. This was all his fault. She wanted to scream.

“Hey…” he sat down next to her, put his arm around his shoulder, “What’s going on? Is this one of those pregnancy mood swings?”

Ella pulled away, looked at him. Did he actually just say that to her? Was he serious?! He moved back a little, clearly taken aback by the look in her eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’ll just… come back later…” he stood up and she grabbed his hand before he could move away.

“No!” he couldn’t go. He couldn’t go again and just leave her alone.

“Okay…” he sat back down, uncertain. Ella curled into his lap, and when her stomach got in the way of snuggling as close as she could she just cried harder into the crook of his neck. He wrapped his hands around her, buried one hand in her hair, moved the other up and down her back slowly, reaching through the open zipper at the back of her dress to caress her skin. He didn’t say a word. It was a few minutes until Ella cried herself out, the full scene that unfolded dawning on her.

“Oh fuck,” she said, sitting up, drying her face. “That was totally a pregnancy mood swing.”

Tom laughed, “I’ve noticed.”

“And oh my god are you insane actually saying that to me?”

“Sorry!” he said again. “I didn’t know you’d go all…” he gestured, trying to describe the scene, then sighed, putting his hands down. “What happened?”

“My dress is ugly and I look terrible,” Ella said. She stood up to look in the mirror again. The result was the same as before. This. This is why she should never be out shopping alone.

“You do not look terrible!” he got up, stood right behind her, zipped up the dress for her. She’d left it open because she couldn’t reach to zip it up properly. It sat a bit better this way, of course. But still not good enough. “You look lovely.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to cry again,” which was a good reason to say it, she’d give him that. But it didn’t change anything.

“I’m saying it because you look lovely,” he sighed, exasperated, exhausted. She was exhausted too, she was exhausting herself, not only him. The whole thing was ridiculous and she wondered why women chose to go through this over and over again. It was worse than PMS and it didn’t go away within a few days. She was with him less than 24 hours and he was already tired of it. She still had months to go. Months. The thought itself was enough to make her want to cry again.

“I’ve still got the other dress if-“

“No!” she cut him off. They’d bought her a dress for the premiere. A beautiful blue piece, with matching jewelry they’d rented. Luke was the one who picked it, apparently, and she had to admit he got both her style and measurements perfectly. She’d ordered them both to return it immediately. It was the first argument she and Tom had after her arrival. He wanted to get her something nice to wear to the premiere, she refused to take such expensive gifts. It would look bad, she said. It would look like she was using him for his money. Nobody would know, nobody would care, he insisted. Luke, wisely, stayed out of it. Ella didn’t budge. She brought her own dress with her and she was going to wear it. Except when she tried it on, it was too tight on her stomach. That was another breakdown right there, since the previous week the dress had still fit fine, and it didn’t occur to her to try it on before packing it. She growled, refusing the blue dress once again when Tom tried to offer it, and went out to buy a dress. She got it on sale, for what she imagined was at least a tenth of the cost of that blue dress, if not even less than that. And it was an awesome dress right up until she tried it on again back at Tom’s.

And now there they were, in his bedroom, looking at their reflections in the full-length mirror, his chin resting on the top of her head, his breath warm against her. He had his arms wrapped around her, palms against her stomach. She felt it and her eyes darted up to his in the mirror, looking for his reaction. He smiled brightly, hand caressing her stomach, wonder in his eyes.

“See?” he whispered, “She thinks you look lovely, too.”

“No, she thinks you’re lying to make me happy.”

“No, that’s what _you_ think,” he rolled his eyes, “ _We_ think you look lovely. And there’s more of us so we win.”

“Fine,” Ella sighed. It was too late now anyway. There were only a few hours left until they had to go to the premiere. “Unzip me?” she needed to shower, grab something to eat.

He helped her with the zipper, then rested his hands on her shoulders for a moment, before caressing a path down her arms, down her waist, down her thighs to the hem of the dress. It was over her head and in his hand a moment later, he was about to throw it down then caught Ella’s look in the reflection.

“Don’t move,” he said, and quickly set the dress on the hanger, hooking it on the handle of his closet. Smart man, not throwing it on the floor like he clearly intended. He was in front of her a moment later, looking down at her hungrily. He pulled the straps of her bra off her shoulders, then unhooked it after a bit of fumbling.

“Getting rusty?” she asked, eyebrow raised up in amusement.

“You’ve been away,” was all he said before he bent down to kiss her. Her neck, a path down to her shoulders then down to her swollen breasts. He paused when he looked up at her, saw the tears in her eyes. “What?” he asked, one part concern, one part annoyance.

“I love you.”

His expression softened, “Don’t cry,” he straightened up, the clouds in his eyes hovering above her again. “You know I love you too.”

Ella blinked, a tear escaping. He caught it with his finger and brushed it away.

“You do?”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t be daft.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he bent down and kissed her before she could, “Shut up,” he said against her lips.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“You love it when I tell you what to do,” he grinned, advancing, making her walk back until her knees hit the bed. Ella glanced back, sat, then scooted up the bed and waited for him to follow. She didn’t have to wait long.

She reached up, started working on the buttons of his shirt, “Why are you still dressed?” she asked, annoyed.

Tom laughed, it was the most beautiful sound in the world and she smiled, pulling the shirt from the waist of his pants, deciding enough buttons were open and pulling the whole thing over his head. She threw it away without looking.

“Oh so my things can go on the floor? Is that how it is?” he raised an eyebrow at her. Ella put her hands behind his neck and pulled him down, kissing him.

“Shut up,” she grinned.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he replied, smiling.

Time was running short, Luke was due to arrive soon, together with someone to do Ella’s hair and make-up. She didn’t argue when they told her about it, although it looked like they were expecting it. But for now – lying on the bed, naked, swimming in the deep oceans of Tom’s eyes, his hand resting against her belly, his other hand tucked underneath his head – everything was perfect. Everything, except the fact that it was going to end, except the fact that she would have to go home and be alone again.

“There’s this poem,” she said, breaking away from his eyes, staring at his chest instead.

“Hmm?” the sound vibrated, feeling her with warmth.

“ _I don’t think that I’ve been in love as such_ ,” she started reciting, not looking up at him. It was easier this way. “ _Although I liked a few folk pretty well,_

_Love must be vaster than my smiles or touch,_

_For brave men died, and empires rose and fell,_

_For love, girls followed boys to foreign lands,_

_And men have followed women into hell_ ,” Ella paused, trying to remember how the next verse started. She dared a look up at him. He was looking at her intently, but she couldn’t read what that look meant. She looked away again.

“ _In plays and poems someone understands_

_There’s something makes us more than blood and bone,_

_And more than biological demands…_

_For me, love’s like the wind, unseen, unknown,_

_I see the trees are bending where it’s been,_

_I know that it leaves wreckage where it’s blown_ ,” she glanced up and away again. Took a breath.

“ _I really don’t know what ‘I love you’ means,_

 _I think it means ‘don’t leave me here alone’_.”

She felt him shift, then his lips pressed against her forehead briefly. “Who wrote that?” he asked.

“Neil Gaiman,” she answered.

The silence stretched, then settled around them like a blanket. Tom turned to his back, pulling her to him, and she rested with her head on his shoulder, her fingers playing with the few soft curls on his chest. “I’ve been thinking,” he said into her hair, “That there’s a really simple solution to this whole visa and citizenship business.”

“Don’t,” Ella said. She knew where he was going with this. It was one of the first things that have occurred to her.

“Listen-“

“No, Tom. You listen. First of all, it’s going to take months to get all the paperwork together, and even _after_ ,” he knew after what, she didn’t need to explain, “It’s not right away. It’s gonna be a while before it actually makes a difference,” she took a breath. “And more importantly, I won’t do it just because it’s convenient. Ask me when this is really how you want to spend your life, not when it’s a practical solution.”

He moved, wriggling from underneath her, moving so he could see her face. She looked up, wished she could make sense of all the different things that were written on his face. After a few moments the curve of his mouth turned in a half-smile, “You’ve thought about this,” he stated, amused.

Ella turned crimson, she knew she had, “Of course I have,” she hid her face in his chest. It shook with his silent laughter.

He tugged at her until she lifted her head, leaned to kiss her again. “You’re the strangest little creature I’ve ever come across,” Tom said. “In a good way,” he added.

“I thought I was the strangest lost little creature?” she asked, remembering his words from almost a year ago. It still felt like yesterday. Time had a strange way of warping around events, making some things feel like they were yesterday, others like they were lifetimes ago. It never matched up, the actual time with the feeling. Not once.

“You’re not lost anymore,” he said simply. “And I won’t leave you alone.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” Ella whispered. He would leave her alone, he’d go away and she’d be alone.

“You’re the one that’s going away, Ella,” he blinked, looked up at the ceiling, his eyes red-rimmed. She reached up, traced a path from his eyebrow to his cheekbone. He leaned his face into her open palm, scratching it with his stubble.

“I’ll come back,” she said.

They allowed themselves some more time in the silence of their little bubble, before they had to get up and start getting ready. A premiere awaited. In the limousine later that evening, looking at her reflection in the rearview mirror, Ella decided she didn’t look too bad after all. She’ll pass. Tom’s fingers entwined with hers and she turned to look at him. He smiled, leaned and whispered in her ear, “You’re beautiful, stop worrying.”

The strange thing was, she believed him. 


End file.
